


Sleep, my darling, safe and sound

by thp_cara (TheHolosexualPan)



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, The Weight Of Lies (Hermitcraft)
Genre: Fluff, Group Cuddles, I will, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Short & Sweet, Sleepy Cuddles, as in poly twol hermits, but false is aro and loves her gaggle of lovable fools, i love twol with all my heart, if i have to write grian getting the sleep and comfort he deserves, im sad so i wrote this to feel better, twolyhermits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27279637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHolosexualPan/pseuds/thp_cara
Summary: Xisuma does his best to protect his hermits, but False knows he needs his rest too.
Relationships: Twolyhermits
Comments: 16
Kudos: 86





	Sleep, my darling, safe and sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BastardBin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastardBin/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Weight of Lies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20027974) by [BastardBin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastardBin/pseuds/BastardBin). 



> Soft au fic based on Grian having chemistry with everyone

The air is just ever so slightly cooler the closer he gets to the Nether Hub, Xisuma thinks, armoured feet stepping carefully over dangerously thin netherrack ledges, the glow of the lava all around him making his green suit look almost muted, but not in the way he would blend in an underwater environment, rather, it strips it of its contrast, even if green is not usually seen in the Nether, and it’s a peculiar thought, but it distracts him from the way his body aches from a journey that has been going on for too long already and from the tiredness that tempts him to just lay down for a few hours, right where he is, but Xisuma knows he is close, can already see it in the changing landscape around him, in the elegant tunnels of the hub that, slowly, from amongst the red mist, come into view.

There’s no pigmen here, just as there is no quartz and even the glowstone is sparse, but it is only a testament of the hermits having lived here for a bit already and it makes Xisuma smile tiredly. Soon enough, he is using the uneven face of a netherrack cliff to make his way to one of the tunnel entrances of the whole structure, but Xisuma is relaxed, now, if a bit sluggish, because he is almost home and some of the worry that, in the last few months, in the last few  _ weeks _ , had been bordering on unbearable, eases, allowing him to take in a longer breath of the sulphurous air.

Perhaps it is because of how exhausted Xisuma already is, because of how it makes him less attentive to detail than he normally would be, that he nearly stumbles over someone the moment he turns a corner at the end of one of the long hallways of the hub, and he just barely catches himself, managing to stumble back without falling with minimal noise, an “oh dear” slipping past his lips as a whisper that his helmet mutes even further.

Xisuma has to blink as he takes in the image before him.

There’s many things Xisuma would have expected to find on his way home, tense expressions set with relief, a buzz of activity in the Shopping District, the hermits sticking together as they wait for Xisuma to come home, perhaps even a few people anxiously awaiting Xisuma at his own base, the question if this is, finally, over visible on their faces, but he did not expect to find most, and Xisuma squints, if not all hermits huddling together in a pile in the corridor that, further down, leads to the area of the End portal, a mess of limbs and soft breaths and pillows and a few blankets haphazardly thrown together in what looks like a surprisingly comfortable nest.

Xisuma feels something warm move in his chest, his eyes softening and the grip of his fingers relaxing from the white-knuckled fists his hands had been in for, perhaps, from the way his fingers ache when he loosens them, too long, and suddenly, sleep eludes him for a second, replaced by affection.

As focused as Xisuma is analysing all of the sleeping faces of his hermits, their hands thrown over each other, heads resting on chests resting against pillows and walls and floors, hands gripping softly in their slumber, feathers shifting ever so slightly in some places, a tail softly moving against the floor in the middle of it all, he doesn’t notice False until she clear her throat, loudly enough in the quiet tunnels that Xisuma almost jumps back in surprise, but still soft enough that none of the hermits wake, though Xisuma can see the way Ren twitches from where he is buried beneath Iskall and Stress, Doc’s hand resting around his waist, but his eyes don’t open and he slumbers on.

“They arrived a few hours before you, after passing through our End”, is what False says after Xisuma, finally, brings his gaze to meet hers, and though she cannot see it behind the visor, he smiles, gently, “Whether the reunion was too heartfelt or they simply couldn’t wait until they reached some actual beds, I can’t tell you.”

Xisuma throws one more glance at the pile of hermits sleeping on the floor next to them and, beneath hands and arms and gentle touches, he can see a few black feathers peeking out. Some unspoked question, some nagging worry in Xisuma’s mind fades into a whisper as he studies Grian’s face, markless, the sides of his head horned. He is laying on top of Mumbo, one of his wings wrapped around him just as Grian is held in his arms, and they both look so tired, yet, finally, at peace, as they are, held amongst their partners, more wings thrown over some of the other hermits, blankets covering them up where the feathers do not reach far enough, all armour thrown somewhere off to the side, all glamours down, the only thing remaining being the gentle comfort of an embrace. If there had been any remaining tension after Grian had returned, wide-eyed and afraid, his hand in Mumbo’s, Xisuma guiding them away from the broken End portal and back to the one in their world before taking off to deal with some less than pleasant issues concerning the archangels, Xisuma can’t see it now, but he can see the almost protective way they hold Grian and Xisuma doesn’t think he’s ever seen Grian sleep. To say that it makes that whisper of concern, finally, disappear is maybe an understatement.

“That’s ok. They needed this, I think”, Xisuma turns to False once again and he almost laughs at the flat stare she gives him. He opens his arms, then, and though she rolls her eyes, she steps up to him, her wings tense behind her until he wraps his arms around her, letting her lean against him for a few seconds before they pull back. Xisuma knows she’s never been one to particularly enjoy the affection of the entire group. She loves the hermits as much as they all love her, but hers is a different way of showing it, just as it is a different kind of love. She doesn’t usually mind a simple hug, though, and Xisuma smiles as he finally pulls the helmet off. It’s not obvious, but the corner of her lips is pulled up in a somewhat lopsided smirk. 

“Yeah… They’re safe now.  _ All of them _ .”

It’s not phrased as a question, but Xisuma can hear it in the tone of her voice, the curiosity tinted in that same protective feeling that makes the others pull Grian closer, probably enough so that he knows that they are,  _ all of them _ , there for him, that he knows they love him and will stop at nothing to protect him, even if the worst of it is over, for now.

“As safe as they can be. I’ll go check our security and-”, but before Xisuma can stop speaking, already preparing to put his helmet back on, False’s hand is on his shoulder and there’s a stern look on her face, her wings unfurling behind her in an impressive show of warm light bouncing off of long, soft looking feathers and he can see the strength hidden behind the elegant arches of them even when False isn’t flying.

“You will not”, False begins, after she pushes Xisuma down into the cuddle pile, and there are already hands grabbing at him, fingers patting his arms and pulling him down until there is a wing half covering him, a noise that Xisuma recognises as coming from Zedaph, soft and still sleep-muddled, echoing from somewhere to Xisuma’s right. It’s not long before Xisuma is comfortably wrapped amongst his hermits and only once False seems satisfied with his lack of trying to escape the heartwarming hold of his hermits does she continue.

“I can handle that just as well. Rest, X.”

Before he can protest, she is off, with one powerful beat of her wings, her flight precise even as the tips of her wings almost touch the edges of the Hub’s sprawling tunnels.

And Xisuma can’t, doesn’t _ want _ to get up from where he is, warm and with the people he loves all around him, but he does move a bit further into the pile, until he can wrap an arm around the sweater clad figure of Grian. He thinks he sees a hint of red irises just before Grian all but melts as yet another person joins in on just about smothering him with love and tenderness, but his breaths relax and his black wings shift a bit where they are still wrapped around Mumbo. He cuddles further into Mumbo’s arms, until he can tuck his head beneath his chin, but Xisuma feels the weight of Grian’s tail wrapping around his wrist comfortingly, and Xisuma smiles, gently, before closing his eyes as well.

His hermits are safe and he knows False and trusts that she can handle herself and, with that knowledge, Xisuma lets himself fall asleep where he is, helmet forgotten somewhere beside the group of cuddling hermits.

**Author's Note:**

> and so my shleepy cuddles strike again


End file.
